


jumped off of risers I should not have climbed

by APgeeksout



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Background Dean/Roman and Dean/Roman/Seth, Bets & Wagers, Fluff, M/M, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-03 02:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: Just like so much else between them, it starts as a competition.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [retroginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/retroginger/gifts).



> We talked about these two and Seth's silly hair on lj ages ago, and now - roughly 7000 years later /0\ - there's fic. C:

Just like so much else between them, it starts as a competition.

Dean's pressing him flush against a convenient empty doorway with the lean length of his body, lips hot against his neck, the fingers wound into his hair to keep him in place carelessly pulling his loose bun out of shape. Roman shakes his head at them indulgently when he tells them to zip up because the emcee's ready to introduce them.

Seth reaches up to smooth his hair back into order, but stops at Dean's laughter, low and dangerous against his skin.

"Bet you can't stand to leave it that way."

It's a stupid, childish bet. He knows it, even in the moment. But Dean brings out the worst in him, right along with the best, and it's a stupid, childish bet he _really_ wants to win.

"What do I get when I prove you wrong?"

"Surprise me," Dean says, cocky but quiet, "and I'll give you whatever you want."

They get through the whole signing with his hair pulled out at a weird, sloppy angle, fans looking at it from the corner of their eyes, mocking and confused and every place in between. Seth keeps his hands off of it, though, and the blowjob he collects in front of the room's full length mirror later that night is worth every puzzled look.

 

* * *

 

He'd thought it would be a one-off thing, but the next time they're scheduled to sign at some mall food court, Dean is there, skimming the hat right off his head and wrecking the ponytail underneath and whispering hot and breathy in his ear about _double or nothin'_.  He's not sure what constitutes "double or nothing" on these stakes, but it's nothing he's too concerned about arguing the finer points of when Dean's mouth drifts from his ear to trail down the side of his neck.

The way Dean looks in - and feels through - the silk and lace that Seth chooses for him, though, make him feel pretty sure he's won twice over after all.

 

* * *

 

After that, it becomes a Thing: a signing at a Toys"R"Us gets followed up by Dean's breathing out a broken moan as he sinks onto a very different kind of toy; a Q&A at the arena rolls into a whole other interrogation, Dean cuffed and trying to talk his way out of (or more likely into) trouble; the video webcast of a radio interview somehow becomes the lead-in to Dean bent over his knee and squirming against his thigh for friction, voice going rougher with every blow he counts off.

There's even a tumblr blog, an endless scroll of fan photo-ops and cell-phone candids and screenshots from local news broadcasts, all highlighting Seth's _#bedhead_ and wondering _#why is he like this???_ , _#what did we ever do to him???_.

During one dull bus ride, while Roman's engrossed in college football highlights on his tablet with Dean slumped against his shoulder (sleeping deeper than he had the whole night before, tossing and turning and rasping out apologies when Seth tried to soothe him), Seth reaches across the aisle to slip his phone from his lax grip. He grabs a choice shot from a convention panel -- Dean looking sidelong at the disheveled mess of his hair, as though he hadn't wrecked it that way himself -- and sets it as Dean's wallpaper.

 

* * *

 

The Friday before Wrestlemania, he makes it through an entire round of quickie interviews with internet media with his boys on either side of him and his hair looking like it's never known the touch of a brush. Seth decides that they all deserve a reward. This weekend is theirs.

When they ask Roman to join them - Dean flopping onto the bed with him, already half in his lap, Seth standing a half-step back, waiting to see if he's misjudged the Big Dog after all - he laughs and ruffles up Dean's slicked-back hair and says, "It's about damn time! Was starting to wonder if I smelled."

"A little," Dean says, tongue lolling out while Roman scrapes fingers over his scalp, "but we like it that way."

After, Dean promptly passes out snugged up between them, sweaty and sated and uncharacteristically still.  Roman reaches across his sleeping shape to comb gentle fingers through the lighter half of Seth's hair. It's a lost cause, damp with sweat and frizzed from exertion, but he appreciates the attention. Seth soaks up the soft touch and Dean's warmth and wonders why he didn't demand this as his prize sooner.

 

* * *

 

"I don't get how rubbing me down is a reward for you, is all." Dean's angling a dubious look at him, and even though he's lying on his belly, docile and almost still, his body is too tense under the warm oil and Seth's slick hands.

Something twists under his ribs at that, at Dean not understanding how making him feel good could be its own satisfaction. Or, maybe, just not believing Seth is the kind of guy who could be satisfied that way.

He leans into the massage again, working the weight and strength of his own body through his fingers and into the knotted muscle of Dean's bad shoulder until he gets the breathy not-quite-sob of relief he's after. He keeps rubbing, firm and steady, and leans down to drop a kiss against the back of his neck, where Dean's hair is starting to curl softly, silkened by traces of the oil soaked up from his skin.

"If it helps," he says, moving his mouth against Dean's skin in a way that he knows will make his beard tickle, "you can tell yourself I'm just trying to limber you up for something really depraved later on."

Dean laughs beneath him, finally loose and soft and easy.

 

* * *

 

Dean finally wins a round when the Shield gets booked for a local morning show in the Quad Cities.

Or, more accurately, Seth throws the whole game by neatening up his bun in the green room mirror. Mostly, because he can't bear the thought of having the same conversation about his grooming habits with Aunt Marilyn (and his third grade teacher and Kevin's vet and the women in Mom's aerobics class and the men in Grandpa's coffee klatsch) every time he comes back home. They've only just gotten over the bleaching, after all.

It's also at least a little bit because he's curious what Dean - gloating and handsy throughout the weather forecast - will claim as his due.

Dean Ambrose, the brash and bloodthirsty Lunatic Fringe, asking almost bashfully if Seth will keep his glasses on is not what he's expecting.

"Of all the filthy things I was prepared to do, this is all you want?" He can't hide his smirk as he settles the thick plastic frames over his nose. "Seriously?"

"Don't let me stop you from bein' dirty as you want," Dean says, grinning as he unbuckles Seth's belt. "Long as you can do it with those on your face."

"Is this a roleplay thing?" he asks, stepping closer and backing Dean toward the bed. "You want me to be a professor or something?"

"Nah." Dean lets himself fall back to the mattress, and the fingers curled into his waistband drag Seth down on top of him. "Just you is good."

 

* * *

 

The theater is kind of dingy and beat-up - there's a whole row of seats right in the middle of the auditorium taped off and unusable - but the snackbar popcorn is hot and cheap, and they're playing a marathon of the _Harry Potter_ series, just like the flyer pinned to the bulletin board at the local Crossfit Box promised. After the Smackdown taping and dropping Roman at the airport, they're just in time to snag a pair of seats for the midnight showing of _Half-Blood Prince_. Because of the meet-and-greet they did this afternoon with Seth's hair looking like it's trying to escape his head in all the fan photos, Dean is here beside him instead of sleeping away the few precious hours before his flight to Vegas.

"So, before you let me in on what you want here, I gotta ask if you got bail money for when they pick us up for indecent exposure? I mean, I don't think I got any warrants outstanding in this state, but you know how it is."

Dean crams a fistful of popcorn into his mouth while Seth looks around to see if any of the other scattered knots of people in the room have heard them over their own conversations and the blare of music that signals the beginning of the reel. The coast seems clear.

"What makes you think there's more to it than the movie?"

Dean crunches his popcorn and shrugs. "Didn't figure you'd cash in your choice on something I'd've done anyway." He grins and drapes an arm over the back of Seth's seat. "Guess that'll teach me to underestimate what a nerd you are."

Seth makes an indignant noise, but then Dean leans over and presses a buttery kiss against the corner of his mouth, and he sort of forgets to be annoyed.

 

* * *

 

Sometimes, Authority business means slicking back his hair to look the part, neat and smooth and orderly. 

Dean's the one whose hair's in constant disarray now, sloppy and out of control.  Just like the rest of him, Seth thinks, and stretches a thin sneer over his features in the mirror. 

He reels away from the dark eyes of his reflection to shout rapid-fire instructions for J&J he's got too much to do to waste any more time messing with his hair or thinking about Dean and Roman playing without him or wondering what Dean's phone wallpaper looks like these days.


End file.
